


Bound

by retln8



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Blood Magic, Child Abuse, Family, Hurt/Comfort, Loss, Multi, Physical Abuse, Rituals, Sex, Sexual Content, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-04-14
Updated: 2012-04-23
Packaged: 2017-11-03 15:00:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/382632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/retln8/pseuds/retln8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Vhenadhal stands vigilant within the Alienage waiting, until a young, broken girl is found at its roots, tying itself to her destiny.</p>
<p>The characters and world belong to Bioware, with the exception of Lucian and Alisande.  This work unapologetically deviates from canon but tries to stay true to the idea of the secondary characters within the work... with few exceptions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Vhenadahl_  
 _Standing over the Alienage_  
 _Holding court over our daily lives_  
 _Sorrow, Joy, Life and Death_  
 _Silent witness to our trials_

She lay curled and broken at the base of the tree. Her innocence shattered and leaking out from between her legs. Ten years old, tainted with the seed of man, she cries onto the roots of the Vhenadahl and the tree blankets her, covering her shame, with brightly colored leaves. A new crack in the trunk weeps sap as the Vhenadahl cried for another broken soul. The elder finds her thus, and rages at the unknown man who had once again dragged a small elven child from the safety of her home for his pleasure. His eyes widen as sparks of magic flicker to life from her fingertips. The tree shivered in response.

The child’s lashes fluttered gently, and she opened her eyes to gaze at her elder. ‘I’m so sorry, sweetling,’ he thought. Valendrian looked into the violet depths of her overlarge eyes, her pain echoed in his. Her arms reached up for him, knowing him, begging for succor. There was a flash first in the plum abyss and then a shower of autumn leaves. The tree as well as the child were begging for comfort. He settled at the Vhenadhal’s roots and opened his arms. The child crawled painfully into his arms, her eyes tightened, knowing that part of him was much like the violator but a spirit drove her on, separating the child from her thoughts, her memories.

The elder, Valendrian, cradled the child in his arms and cried with her. He smoothed the auburn curls on the child’s head and considered his next step. The Chantry and Templars would need to be told. First, though, he would clean her up, not to hide the evidence but to spare her parents yet one more heartache. Their little girl, their only child to have survived past its third year, would need to be taken away, to the Circle Tower in Kinloch Hold.

“Elder?” The words quivered on her lips, and fear marred her pretty, childish face. Whatever spirit had separated the child from her memories was fading, he had very little time to help her. 

“Alisande? What happened?” She needed to speak her nightmares out before she was thrust into a world of more humans. Haltingly she told the elder of how a human man had grabbed her as she was running an errand for her father. The man had torn her pretty dress, one that her mother had worked so hard on. He had pushed her on the ground, dirtying what he had already torn. Then he had ripped her small clothes and pushed her legs apart. She remembered a terrible pain as he fell on her over and over. She had pushed at him, trying to get him to stop. Then the man had left her there as she cried, dirty and sure that her momma would be mad about the dress. Valendrian held her and rocked as the child cried at the memory. 

“What about the magic, Alisande? How long have you had it?” He held up her hand as the magic sparked erratically from her fingers. Her eyes slid to the side and he knew she’d been hiding it for a while. 

“You know that you have to go to the Tower, sweetheart.” Valendrian kissed the top of her head. 

“But Momma and Poppa will be so sad if I go.” Her tone was so plaintive that Valendrian chuckled humorlessly. 

“Come now Alisande, you know that you will never leave the Alienage, not completely. It’ll be just like your brothers and sisters that the Maker called to his side.” Valendrian’s eyes were as gray as his hair, but there was a light within them that reminded the little girl of the leaves of the Vhenadahl. She looked from the elder to the tree and back again. The Elder elf nodded sagely and took a thin sharp knife from his belt. Showing her what he meant, he sliced across his palm, wincing at the sting, and placed the bleeding hand to the tree. The bark of the Vhenadahl pulsed twice, glowing from deep within. When the Elder pulled his hand away, the cut had been fully healed. Smiling, the little girl held out her hand, she made no sound when he slipped his blade across her palm. Stumbling a little and staring at the red liquid staining her hand, she walked to the tree. Reverently, as the Elder had shown her, she flattened her palm against the rough bark. Behind her, Valendrian asked the tree for protection for the child, in her journeys. The little girl repeated each statement, with the same solemnity as the elder. 

“Vhenadahl choisant dom _(Vhenadahl protect me)_  
Vhenadahl ardaitheoir mé suas _(Vhenadahl lift me up)_  
Vhenadahl breathnú thar mo _(Vhenadahl watch over me)_  
Vhenadahl éisteacht liom _(Vhenadahl hear me)_  
Vhenadahl a thabhairt dom urlabhra _(Vhenadahl give me speech)_  
Vhenadahl garda dom _(Vhenadahl guard me)_  
Vhenadahl a lorg I sábháilteacht I do arm _(Vhenadahl I seek shelter in your arms)_  
Vhenadahl fothain dom _(Vhenadahl shelter me)_  
Vhenadahl liom a dhaingniú _(Vhenadahl keep me secure)_  
Vhenadahl is tú mo baile _(Vhenadahl you are my home)”_

Valendrian smiled and nodded at the resilience of youth, he could feel the tree healing her hurts, burying her memories deep, taking the sacrifice of blood into itself. When the little girl turned back to him, he could see the golden lights of the Vhenadahl tree sparkling within her violet eyes. 

“Now, Alisande, wherever you go, we will be with you. Your sorrows and joys will be ours.” The ritual that he had performed with the child should have waited until she was much older, her wedding day at the very least. Sad that he had to witness the loss of innocence, but happy that he was able to bind her to her home, and give her some reassurance that they, the family of the village, would always be with her. “You must clean yourself up as best you can, little one. Then go home, and tell your Mother and Father that a human had witnessed your use of magic and that I must tell the Chantry, to protect us all.” She would only have a short time before the Templars would collect her.

She smiled too brightly, but for now the Vhenadhal would protect her from the worst of what would come. Then she ran off to find some relatively clean water in which to right herself. Valendrian watched her go with a heavy heart before walking to the Chantry to let them know about the girl. The tree pulsed in agitation and the Elder smoothed a hand over the bark of the tree, making a promise that she would return to the Alienage, after her time of training was done. Alisande was destined to bring honor to the Alienage, of that both he and the Vhenadahl were sure. The tree shivered and dropped a large branch. Valendrian understood its meaning, the girl might leave today, but when she was a full mage, the Vhendahal would serve as her staff, forever binding them together.


	2. On The Road

Alisande returned to the center of the Alienage, her auburn hair clean, brushed and bound up in a braid. She was dressed as a boy in knee britches and coarse linen shirt. Valendrian saw her and smiled, hiding his sorrow for the loss of another child. Every parent knew that the Templars would throw any mage child on the back of a horse and ride as if all the demons of the Void were on their trail, and in skirts, the girls often suffered. Years ago, the First Enchanter had actually written a proclamation requesting the particular traveling uniform, to save girls the discomfort and occasional humiliation. Alisande’s parents walked ten paces behind their daughter as she approached the Vhenadhal to say her goodbyes to the tree and the Elder.

“How long?” Her voice was calm and sounded ancient. Looking into her eyes, he saw turbulence in the purple depths but the ring of gold along the outside was calm and unflinching. Valendrian wondered how much the tree was influencing her placid demeanor.

“You don’t have too long to wait child.” His hand brushed the top of her head, comforting himself more than Alisande. Her eyes narrowed with a flinch at the touch of his hand. Whatever the tree had done, it would not hold. Soon, she would barely be able to abide being near any man. He’d told the Chantry that the girl had been abused and that she needed to go to the tower. Valendrian had even gone so far as to beg for the assistance of female templars. At least the women wouldn’t engender the feeling of being trapped with the enemy like the men would. 

The Elder sat at the base of the tree and called Alisande to join him for a moment. In his hands was a pack, filled with the things she would need for her journey. Some things, including the satchel itself, were a gift from the Chantry. They provided food that could travel well, and a change of clothing. Other items were given freely from the families in the village. They had given her a book to read and a journal to write in, a soft woolen blanket and a delicate bracelet crowded with small clay beads, each bead carrying a prayer from its giver. Alisande smiled as she touched each gift.

“Thank you Elder. And, please, give my thanks to the rest of the Alienage.” This time her voice was her own.

“Please, child, do not fret. You will live better in the Circle and will want for little.” He only said the words as he had been told them by the previous Elder, though he wasn’t sure it was a better life as everyone had said.

“My parents though… I…” She couldn’t say the words. Her mother had been fretfully ill when she had lost the last child; taking to her bed and not rising for days. Her father doted on her mother. There were many days that Alisande’s father did not work because his wife had taken to her bed; the man had lost many jobs because of it. Lack of food and money made life in Alisande’s home frequently unstable.

“They will be taken care of child. I promise you.” It was an empty promise and both child and Elder knew it, but sometimes lies were kinder than truths.

A commotion at the gates of the Alienage had both of them looking up. Her parents huddled together as if freezing in the early summer sun. Hurriedly Alisande put everything back in her travel pack and stood up, her hand on the tree for comfort and support. Elder Valendrian almost groaned aloud when he saw the three templars, all male. The child wouldn’t survive the journey, not in the sole company of men. Even with the help of the Vhenadhal, the girl was becoming more fragile; her hold on her magic becoming more tenuous. Templars were quick to smite anyone who did not have control of their magic, and their power could easily break a mage. Already Alisande was shaking with fear and certain knowledge that she wasn’t meant to live beyond the gates of Denerim. 

Valendrian moved forward to intercept their certain path. His hands held up, needlessly showing that he was unarmed and harmless. The three templars stopped and waited for an explanation.

“I am certain that there has been some mistake. I asked the Revered Mother to please allow three female templars to take the girl.” Valendrian dropped his voice to near a whisper, not knowing how much the child imparted to her parents. “She has been abused by a human male. Traveling so long in the presence of more men might well kill the child.” It was a good excuse in Valendrian’s mind. A female templar might be more willing to understand or overlook a terrified child’s misuse of magic because of fear. 

“Are you intimating that we would have sexual congress with a child? Or let her think that we would?” One of the templars removed his helm and smiled kindly. His eyes were the color of the sky and his hair a light blond. His smile drew a reluctant one from the Elder. 

“Of course not, but she is still new to the wound and might not see a difference.”

The templar considered this before answering.

“We have no female templars to spare at this time and Kinloch hold has none in residence. It is our duty to get the child to the tower safely. Your young mage knows the Maker’s will, she must go today, not only when we have women to escort her. For you, and your piece of mind, we will ask one of the sisters to join us. Perhaps that will ease everyone’s conscience.” The blue eyes had turned to flint and Valendrian knew that with or without a female along, the child would leave Denerim within the hour. One of the other templars saluted his superior and ran to the Chantry. Valendrian prayed hastily to the Maker that a sister would be willing to make the trip. The Elder looked back to the tree and saw the child in question. She had not moved from where he’d left her. Her hand still on the trunk of the Vhenadhal, the tree dripping sap onto her hand. He could feel the superficial strength in the girl. The tree was doing what it could to keep her intact mentally and Valendrian could only hope that between the child and the Vhenadhal, it would be enough.

The knight in charge stepped forward and considered his new charge. His eyes widened as her power reached out to touch him, and his eyes closed either in prayer or supplication. Regardless, when his eyes opened he cleared his throat and held out his hand. The child lifted her pack and stepped toward the templar, trembling slightly as her hand left the safety of the tree. The templar stood stock still as the girl took one hesitant step after another. She stopped before passing the Elder and looked up at the man who had given so much comfort to the whole Alienage. 

“Dareth Shiral, Elder.” The ancient creaking voice echoed under the higher girlish tones. Valendrian realized that it was not only the girl speaking. He closed his eyes and prayed to the Maker and the tree for her safety and that of the Alienage. Wind blowing through the leaves comforted him, even as the Alisande touched his arm. 

“Safe journey, Alisande.” He leaned in and kissed the top of her head and then whispered in her ear. “Come home to us some day.” She nodded that she heard and then continued to walk toward the templar. Alisande turned her head and sadly smiled her goodbyes to her parents. Her mother broke into noisy tears. Finally, having reached the templar she placed her hand, reluctantly in his.

“Come along child. We have a long journey ahead of us.” The blond templar looked down at his charge but didn’t smile, not as he had. “I am Ser Falken, and you are?”

She looked up at the man, her hand already shivering in his. Alisande knew that he was trying and it was the least she could do to try and be pleasant as well. 

“I am Alisande, Ser Falken.”

He nodded and then let her hand go, knowing that she would follow. He led the other templar and the child from the Alienage. She hesitated at the gates. Ser Falken looked back with understanding.

“Every journey begins with a simple step. It is time, now, for you to take yours.” The words came easily from the templar, as if he had said it many times. She nodded to let him know that she had heard but still couldn’t step over the threshold on her own. For a second time, Falken held out his hand, and she took it, using his strength to face the fear of the market place. He talked quietly as they headed to the Chantry to pick up the last templar and possibly a sister. Falken distracted her from the memories that threatened, until they had left the gates of the city behind.

 

*~* 

 

The child had been quiet the first few days of travel. Her eyes took on a more haunted expression the further that they got from Denerim. She slept on the far side of the fire from the templars, and her cries would wake the men. The other two knights had been warned not to touch her even to wake her from the terrors, as it would likely worsen whatever she had been dreaming of. 

Tonight was no exception, Falken watched as the child whimpered in her sleep and curled into a tighter ball. Every muscle was pulled taut and the templar worried that she might hurt herself, but still, he did not try to wake her. The other two men woke at the pitiful sound and Cymry got up. Falken noticed the movement too late and rushed to stop the other templar from touching her. It took the merest brushing of fingertips and there was a ripple in the clearing, magic burst over them and drew them into her dreams.

All three men watched as the little girl was dragged into an alley. The human grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and smashed her head against the wall until she stopped thrashing. The dark auburn hair matted with blood and dirt, the stone wall he used had a spot of blood on it as well, smeared slightly with the man’s rough movements. The child’s violet eyes were dazed with pain and fear, but she understood that the man would kill her if she fought him. They heard the rough chuckle felt her fear rise. 

Suddenly, as if they were Alisande, they could feel the man’s hands stroking her thighs, pushing them apart even though they all struggled to keep them closed. Rough hands pulled at small clothes and Falken fought not to vomit as they felt fat fingers pry into the delicate opening between her legs. He could hear Cymry scream as the man thrust inside over and over. Falken could feel the magic building and worried for his men as much as the child. His attention was jerked back to the nightmare as the man scraped the delicate flesh of the child against the rough dirty ground, cutting her skin. The blood excited him, the templars could feel that and Bran, the third man vomited as they watched. Clenching his teeth, the man hurriedly thrust into the child, breaking her and laughing as she screamed and squirmed. Blood flowed from where the man had seated himself and then he started to thrust. The pain and the screaming were all that Falken knew for what seemed like an eternity. The magic was building; Cymry had edged closer to the small form, tears streaming down his face. Falken wanted him to back up, get away from the child. Then the man turned his face and Falken saw himself. He knew that he’d never touch a child like that, and from the looks on the other men’s faces, they saw themselves as well. 

The climbing magic crested like a wave and crashed over them. Lightning broke the sky as the child screamed in her sleep and the men were thrust from the nightmare. Falken screamed over the sudden storm, ordering the men back but Cymry wasn’t quick enough, still stunned by what he saw. A bolt of lightning struck his plate armor and he shuddered with the force of it. When it had spent itself, Cymry crawled to the child and hit her with a closed fist. The little girl woke up panicked as the templar continued to swing. She started to crawl but Cymry grabbed her hair and jerked her back. When she fell at his feet, he kicked her and then hit her again when she tried to stand. 

Falken managed to avoid the lightning and was grateful that the child had enough control to pull her magic back in, even in the face of a beating. He grabbed Cymry and pulled him off the girl, thrusting him into Bran’s equally stunned and terrified arms. Falken didn’t touch the girl though and fought the urge to vomit although he couldn’t say whether it was due to her condition or the dream itself. Her tears streaked through the bloody cut on her cheek and Falken knew that there would be a number of bruises. He sighed and held out his hand, but this time she didn’t take it. She looked at it numbly. He wanted to pull her in close and comfort her, promise to find the man who had taken her so painfully and kill him for her, but he couldn’t. The promise to bring her assailant to justice was for his piece of mind alone.

He handed her a waterskin along with a cloth, careful not to touch her and then approached Cymry.

“Andraste’s tits man! What in the Void do you think you were doing? I told you NEVER to touch her. I even told you why, but still you did, and then you beat a child, almost to death before she could wake up because of her reaction? The Revered Mother will hear of this, as will the Knight Commander of Kinloch Hold. We have two days until we reach the Circle Tower, and she will look a mess when we get her there. No wonder so many think that we are as bad as the mages.” Falken was near foaming at the mouth in anger. Some of it was left over from feeling so helpless in her dreams. He would also have to note her power and the fact that she could draw them in to the dream. A terrifying ability and he wondered if she would be made tranquil immediately. Poor child, he thought, so young to have seen so much.

“You saw what she fucking did to us. No mage should have that kind of power and then… then that storm. Falken! She doesn’t need to go to the tower. You know what the Chant of Light says.” Cymry was frightened and angry. Falken could see him fighting the sensation of being violated as the girl had been. 

“We are lucky that she has kept her magic on its leash this long. I told you not to touch her, ever, and you did it anyway. Her response was instinctive, she was protecting herself. Think on that, and never touch the child again, or you will deal with the consequences of your actions.” Unspoken between the two men was that Falken did not believe Cymry would survive another encounter with the child’s magic and if he did, Cymry would not survive Falken’s wrath.

Alisande quietly cleaned her wounds, watching the exchange. When she had finished tending to herself as much as she was capable, she crawled away from the templars, as far away as she could. Her eyes were wide and dark, fear making the gold outer ring thin. Falken approached the child as he would any wounded creature, making himself seem nonthreatening and stopping a good distance away, so that she would have no reason to run from him.

“I’m sorry, Ser Falken. For whatever I did. I am sorry. Please…” Alisande’s voice was heavy with tears. The fact that she was unaware of what had happened before her beating was a small blessing he decided.

“I know child. I am sorry too.” Falken motioned for her to try to sleep, but knew somehow that none of them would. He waited to see if either the other templars would settle, but beyond praying for forgiveness, they seemed disinclined to sleep either. Falken decided that they would continue traveling then, the road was flat and they would walk the horses slowly. Anything had to be better than staying in that clearing remembering such misery.


	3. Kinloch Hold

Falken walked Alisande to the boat with Cymry and Bran in tow. The boat was a tiny affair and Alisande started to shake. Twice in the past day, she had tried to run and they’d bound her hands together and then tied her to her horse, forcing Cymry and Bran to ride double as the girl would shriek and thrash when any of the men came near. Any but Falken but she wouldn’t abide his touch either. Now, she would have to sit close enough to the men that they would be touching her. Fear caused every muscle to tighten her body became rigid.

Falken chose to send the other two templars on ahead, they could get into the Tower and find a healer as the boat took its time returning with Falken and Alisande in tow. Everytime she had an episode, it set Cymry off. They would have to stay for a few days to see if Cymry could be healed as well. Whatever had happened between templar and child had connected them. Cymry had become the face of the man who had violated Alisande, in both her and Cymry’s minds, and that caused both of them a great deal of torment. Falken looked at his charge and winced. She had relaxed a bit as the boat pulled away from shore but bruises and cuts marred her face and arms. Alisande was also walking oddly, which meant that she probably had bruises on her legs as well. She was living in her nightmare, a circumstance that Falken wanted to change as soon as possible.

He saw the boat drifting back across the water and Falken wondered if she would be able to tolerate sitting next to him for the whole of the ride. ‘Or,’ he mused, ‘would she force herself over the side unable to swim due to the bonds and drown?’ She stepped carefully into the boat. The ferryman looked at her bonds and the bruises and glared disapprovingly at templar. Falken said nothing, because he had no words for how sad he felt about the circumstances of the child. The small vessel slipped through the water with little guidance from the ferryman, the boat almost having a mind of its own. The trip had taken mere minutes, but Falken could taste the fear on the child, making each moment last an eternity. As the shoreline came into view, he saw five people waiting for them. He could pick out the forms of the templars, Bran, Cymry and the Knight Commander, Ser Greagoir. The other two were mages, but Falken had never met any of them. Under normal circumstances, he would escort his charge across the water and give them over to the Knight Commander, to disappear within the walls of Kinloch Hold. Alisande needed medical attention though and he was glad to see that healers would move so quickly.

He got out of the boat first and helped Alisande, cutting her bonds and freeing her hands. She nodded as she acknowledged the understanding that she was to stay until she was called. 

“Ser Falken, explain yourself! What could possibly be the justification for binding a child as if she were a common criminal?” Knight Commander Greagoir’s voice held all the outrage that Falken had felt for himself for the past day and a half.

“It is a long story, Knight Commander. This girl needs healing as quickly as possible, Cymry will need attention too, but his should wait until after the story is told.” Falken bent his head in shame and deference. 

“Very well.” He waved to the mages, one of whom immediately took charge of the girl. Falken was grateful that the healer was a woman, she would fare better not being bombarded by men even here. The other mage, a great deal older than the healer looked on, using a bit of magic to glean what he could from the situation. Falken, assuming that the mage was one of the senior enchanters, said nothing. Greagoir looked at the mage and they nodded in unison.

“Come inside Ser Falken and give us your report of what happened.” Greagoir was angry, that much was obvious, but he would not reprimand them before he knew the whole story.

*~*

Falken and his men were ushered into the brightly lit halls of Kinloch Hold. All three looked about them, in awe of the beauty and stillness of the graceful gray stone hallways. Delicate carvings decorated the walls, reliefs that emphasized the Chant of Light and a mage’s role in the world. At first, Falken looked for windows, expecting to see the light to be coming from the early morning sun, but he saw none. In some spots, there were paintings that mimicked the outside world, but the painted windows were unchanging and the feeling of oppression bore down heavily on the men. ‘The last time that any of us were in a Mage Circle was in Kirkwall. The Gallows was a prison, but this feels far more confining,’ thought Falken. The three men exchanged looks of gratitude, knowing that in a short time, they would be allowed to leave and breathe fresh air. No mage would truly know that feeling once they stepped inside. They would forever be tied to the tower.

Through various corridors and up numerous stairs, they finally found themselves in the austere office of the Knight Commander. Falken and his men stood until they were ordered to sit and give their reports. It was up to Falken to do most of the talking. He spoke of how the child had been abused, or so the Elder had said. All three templars thought that it was just the elf’s way of keeping the child in the Alienage until they could spirit her and her family away from their duty. The girl had had nightmares every night, but there was something about the way that magic built around her that had Falken ordering the men not to touch her. 

Falken then told what happened the night that Cymry disobeyed orders and spoke of Cymry’s reaction. The older mage had been silent throughout it all but chose that moment speak up.

“You are saying that she pulled you into her dream? Unusual to say the least. We haven’t had a Sominari in the circle for over a hundred years.” The mage’s voice was strong and thoughtful, even a bit excited.

“I’m sorry Irving. What is a Sominari?” The Knight Commander looked more weary than usual. 

“A Sominari, Greagoir, is a Dreamer. A mage who can manipulate the Fade at will, even kill within it if necessary.” 

Falken felt it necessary to make a comment at this point.

“She didn’t appear to have any control over it, nor did we see any demons offering any one salvation. It was a memory of sorts, and she was sore afraid.” Falken felt pity for the child if nothing else. Cymry chose to speak up too.

“The little girl only acted in defense of what her sleeping mind perceived as a threat. I cannot justify my actions, not knowing what more harm I have done. We are right to fear mages, Knight Commander, but we should not let our fear be our undoing.” The young knight’s head was bowed in shame. It was no more than what Falken had tried to tell him, but it had taken seeing the results of his actions to really drive it home. A knock on the door had all of them jumping slightly. Greagoir bade the visitor enter and they saw it was the healer from outside.

“Sers. The girl is resting comfortably. There was a fracture but it seemed about a week old, a number of bruises and cuts are more recent. Also… she has been… used. There was a bit of damage there too.” It was apparent that the healer did not want to discuss all of the injuries that the child sustained in front of such a large crowd. Cymry bent down, his head in his hands as he prayed for forgiveness. Greagoir nodded to the woman before asking the most important question.

“Is her mind intact?” The words echoed in the chamber’s sudden silence. The healer looked stricken.

“I believe so, although her hold is fragile at the moment, possibly due to a recent beating. We will have to wait to see if she can recover from that as well.” 

Greagoir dismissed the healer and looked at Irving. “First Enchanter? What do you think?” 

Falken fought not to let his jaw drop. The mage he had thought was a servant of the First Enchanter was the man himself. Irving didn’t seem to notice the sudden deference by the templars, instead focusing on his newest charge.

“From what you told me, if she was reliving a memory, she might not be a Sominari which will make our lives easier. However, she will have to be watched carefully. We cannot decide her fate now, we will have to see how she recovers.” The First Enchanter then looked at Cymry with a question in his eyes. “We will have to keep you here too ser, to see if the connection between you can be broken without harm to either.”

“First Enchanter? Would it be possible to wait until the child can write a brief note to her family? They were most worried that she got here alive. A letter from her would ease any unrest in the Alienage about her journey.” Falken tried to impart as much deference in his tone as he could.

“Of course. We will see if she feels up to it tomorrow. In the meantime, Greagoir, would you be able to house three more men for a day or two?” Irving sounded so welcoming in contrast to Greagoir’s thunderous expression. The Knight Commander nodded though. Falken and his men would be guests of Kinloch Hold until such a time as they were released by both the First Enchanter and the Knight Commander. Falken prayed to Andraste that they could leave soon; his lungs ached for the fresh air of freedom.


	4. A Young Woman's Research

Alisande sat at the long table that she had all but covered with texts. She had buried herself in her research regarding abominations. The First Enchanter had assigned it when she had peppered him with questions about the cause of such creatures and why no one was trying to cure the afflicted, why they were just killed. She closed her eyes and wished she had kept her mouth closed. She would have been happy to do the research, but the First Enchanter wanted her to present her findings, not only in front of him, but all of the senior enchanters.

With a deep sigh, she opened another book and started skimming the sources, looking for references to abominations. She found a great deal about the tranquil. She made notes in a second journal. Alisande was so involved with her own research, she barely registered a group of apprentices sitting down near her. It didn’t cause her the alarm it would have years, even months before. She’d managed to get a grip on her nightmares and memories, making it so that she could function around anyone without dropping to the ground and screaming. Her first few months in the tower had been hellish. Memories that weren’t hers assailed her at every turn. Irving had originally assigned some tranquil to watch over her as she learned her way around the tower, but even their touch brought memories to the surface. 

Irving had spent days observing her reactions and was surprised that her observations were accurate, what she sensed were memories, either of her companion or something she ‘picked up’ from touching something. It was then that Irving taught her how to block those memories, those feelings, so that she could walk comfortably down hallways and around people. She had for all intents become Irving’s apprentice. When she was released from the infirmary, the Knight Commander had also taken a special interest in her. He would call her into his office to informal chats, asking her how he was doing or fitting in. On her namedays, he always had some small gift. She had asked Irving about Greagoir’s nameday and was happy when the First Enchanter told her. Those two days, their namedays, were special for her, a time when she felt like she was still a part of a family. 

Slowly, Alisande dragged her mind from the past and back to her research. Her eyes narrowed as she found another entry about the tranquil, but this time abominations were mentioned also. Alisande’s pen scratched hurriedly and wanted to get the note of how the state of being a tranquil could be reversed into her journal before anyone noticed. Ignoring the apprentices around her, she closed the second journal and opened herself to the memories in the text. She didn’t know whether or not to be grateful that this one book had no memories. Disgusted with herself, she pushed the book away and looked at the others piled around her.

“You behind on your studies?” A velvety baritone floated over her shoulder and she winced at how the pile of books must look to others.

“No. I asked too many questions and was given an assignment to find out the answers for myself, and the First Enchanter.” Alisande was afraid to look behind her and see who the voice belonged to. The owner of the mystery voice put a hand on the desk to one side of her and his sensuous voice brushed her ear on the other.

“I could help you if you like. Take notes or simply look for references. I would put the books back, but…,” Alisande liked the way he spoke and was disappointed when he paused. Her hand moved of its own accord as she lightly brushed the edge of his hand with her fingers. She turned her head toward the source of the voice, expecting him to be just another image of a man that wasn’t there. Alisande nearly flinched when the tip of her nose brushed the skin of his cheek.

The young man, an apprentice from his robes, was handsome and never once looked at her, merely at the books surrounding her journals. The urge to touch his face the way that she had his hand was nearly overwhelming.

“Lucian! You know what will happen if you keep looming over her like that. She is a favorite of the First Enchanter and the Knight Commander. They will look ill on you flirting with their precious apprentice.” One of Lucian’s companions teased him. The other man’s words made her wonder at how the other apprentices truly saw her.

“This amount of work is a punishment, not a reward for an inquisitive mind. I have no problem assisting her, if…” Lucian paused and turned to look at Alisande with a crooked smile. His pale blue-gray eyes regarded her questioningly before continuing to speak directly to her. “You don’t mind if I help, do you? I confess I have had no great yearning to learn about,” he glanced at her open journal, “abominations… but I am willing to help in any way.”

She smiled shyly at Lucian and nodded. He moved his hand from her one side and plopped down next to her on the other, bumping her slightly with his hip. She moved away, giving him more room, but he just scooted closer until he was once again settled up against her side. Alisande looked at the others who were arranging themselves around her and her material in a grumbling manner. Lucian leaned into her as he motioned to the others and made introductions.

“The glowering dark haired one is Jowan. He does no more work than necessary, preferring to flirt with his mentors.” She stared open mouthed in the direction indicated. Jowan’s short dark hair was perfect, as were his dark eyes. His lips were compressed in a disgruntled line. He smiled at her when their eyes met, so she knew that he was merely joking. She looked to the others and they were smiling in encouragement, allowing her to feel more relaxed in their company.

“Anders is a bit of a ladies’ man. Keep an eye on him and his hands. Flora is our researcher; he does all the mental heavy lifting.” She liked listening to Lucian and his wicked observations. Anders was exceedingly handsome and it was easy to see how women would fall over themselves to draw the attention of his caramel colored eyes. ‘Flora’ had reddish hair and brown eyes which were glaring at Lucian.

“My name, serrah, is Florian Phineas Horatio Aldebrant, esquire.” It was obvious to Alisande that Florian liked neither his name nor the name his friends called him. She was surprised to see his eyes turn to her before continuing his address. “I would prefer you call me… um… Finn. I’ll help with your work, if you can help me with mine. I’m researching Ancient Elven artifacts and these three are practically useless.”

Alisande was overwhelmed by the intrusion into her normally solitary activity and sat mutely staring at the four young men unable to answer. She felt a finger gently pushing up on her chin, closing her mouth. Her cheeks reddened at the action.

“Leave her alone Lucian, it’s a wonder she hasn’t told us all to sod off,” Anders said. His voice was almost as delicious as his eyes. “Sweet, just nod for yes or shake your head no. With a yes, we will oblige ourselves to help with the research, if you help us in return. Shake your head no, and we will take ourselves off so as not to inconvenience or disturb you further.”

“What exactly are the… um… favors you would want?” She bit her lip, fearing the response.

The young men all had something that they wanted. Finn wanted help with his research and Jowan merely wanted a partner to work spells with. The others seemed leery of his ability and were unwilling. Anders only promised that he wouldn’t importune her with requests for sex, but his favor was of a personal nature. Lucian asked if she would sit with him at dinner some night. They seemed fairly innocuous.

“What if I said ‘no’ to your request?” She aimed the question first at Anders and then looked at Lucian. 

Anders pouted and then smiled. “I would honor your ‘no’, and probably continue to help you but would reserve the right to grouse. I do perfectly fine on my own without having to placate my mentor with scads of research.”

No man, she thought, should have the ability to melt a woman’s resolve with mere words. Lucian took advantage of her distraction and leaned in to whisper in her ear.

“I wouldn’t accept your ‘no’. I would pester you day in and out until you relented.” His hot breath against the soft shell of her ear made her shiver.

“I accept your offer gentlemen.” She tried to sound sure and sophisticated, but her knees shook as the men took some of her texts. Finn and Jowan asked for direction on what they were looking for. Anders made notes, both for himself and for her. Sometimes he would walk over to her and show her a specific passage, but mostly he worked alone. Lucian stayed right where he was, brushing against her arm as he reached for a book, leaning in when she gasped with pleasure over a passage. They worked for about two hours when the clock told them it was almost time for dinner. Finn marked the books they hadn’t looked through as Jowan and Anders put them away. Lucian helped Alisande gather their notes and tidied their workspace. He then walked her back to her dorm room while the others hared off to ready themselves for the evening meal.

“May I see you later? After dinner? Just to talk, I promise.” His words flowed over her skin making it shiver and igniting desires that she’d only heard of from the other girls.

“I can’t. I’m sorry. Not this evening, I’m having dinner with the Knight Commander.” She smiled at him and then looked quizzically as his brow furrowed. 

“I didn’t realize… I…” His voice took on an accusatory tone, one she’d heard before and rushed to set him straight.

“Not like that. He’s been kind to me since I came. He told me I remind him of his daughter.” Her eyes flashed angrily in defense of a man who had been nothing but kind to her since she arrived. “Perhaps, I should thank you for assisting me today. You don’t need to help tomorrow… or ever again.” 

She turned away to open the door but his hand stopped her. Alisande turned and looked at him, anger making her stiff.

“I’m sorry. I should have asked instead of assumed, it’s just that mages and templars…,” He bit his lip as he tried to think of the right words. “We don’t normally work… together. Forgive me? Please, let me see you again, even if it’s in the library surrounded by books and people.”

She started to turn from him again, confusion making her wish she had others to talk to. He slid his hand down her arm and stopped at her hand, stalling her escape. He lifted it gently and kissed her knuckles, brushing his lips lightly across her skin.

“Please, Alisande.” His voice was husky and she found herself nodding. The relief in his eyes was almost comical. “Tomorrow then? The library… after morning classes?” He was pushing her and she had no time to think before she agreed to all of his requests. Lucian kissed her knuckles once more and disappeared before she could rethink her answer. 

Alisande turned back to the door to see it open and three female apprentices staring at her with mouths gaping. One recovered quickly and pertly asked, “How did you get Luscious Lucian to look at you like that?”

Alisande swallowed a nervous chuckle and tried for all the world to sound bored. “Research.”

All four girls giggled and shut the door to ready themselves for dinner.


	5. Dinner and What Came After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the odd relationship between Alisande and Greagoir is explained (non-canon)

“You have to tell her, she will find out eventually.” Irving tried to reason with his old friend. They often stood on opposite sides when it came to mages, but they tended to agree where Alisande was concerned. “She doesn’t know that you think of her as your daughter. Brigit died a long time ago and I know that it still pains you, but she isn’t a replacement child. The Maker doesn’t work like that. If Alisande sees the memory of Brigit and you didn’t tell her before, it might frighten her. She and Brigit look a great deal alike and you know that her talent isn’t always reliable with faces.”

Greagoir looked at his friend and nodded. 

“I know you’re right, Irving, but… I miss her and seeing Alisande on occasion makes me feel like I have a family again,” his normally resonant voice small in the admission.

“I think she feels the same way, but she is getting some unwanted attention in the way of rumors. You will need to clarify your relationship to yourselves as well as each other, so you can combat those rumors.” Irving was one of the few mages who knew Greagoir’s wife. As a mage, her life was the tower, but Greagoir had fallen in love and gotten permission to wed her, albeit in secret. She had been dead almost twenty years and the Knight Commander mourned the loss every day. Irving looked up at the tower’s chimes calling everyone to dinner. A servant knocked on the Knight Commander’s door and walked in with a tray of food and setting for two. Irving raised an eyebrow and Greagoir looked away sheepishly.

“I’ll talk to her about it tonight. She deserves to hear it from me, you’re right. I don’t want people thinking that I am taking my pleasure in that manner. Alisande deserves better.” Greagoir spoke softly, hesitation heavy in his voice. Irving placed a consoling hand on Greagoir’s shoulder and walked out of the office to preside over the dinner hour.

Greagoir was still trying to figure out how to approach the subject when he heard a knock on his door.

“Enter.” Choosing brisk and efficient, he called out to his guest. His eyes lit up when he saw Alisande walk through the door. 

“Good evening, Ser.” She smiled the greeting, no matter how many times he told her to call him by his given name, she said that she couldn’t. 

“You look lovely this evening. You have a blush on your cheeks and a smile in your eyes. Did you make a friend among the apprentices?” It had been a bone of contention between them; he wanted her to make more friends, to be more comfortable in the tower. She had been reluctant, between her gift and the knowledge that she might lose that person to the Harrowing, she was reluctant to put forth the effort.

“I… uh… yes.” She bit her lip and looked away. Greagoir’s eyes narrowed and he knew that look. He would grill his men in the morning to see who she had ‘befriended’ to make sure that they were worthy of his little girl. He pulled himself up short. The talk, they needed to talk, he thought.

“Alisande, please sit. We… uh… we need to talk.” He waited until she had seated herself before going on, watching absently as she dished out their dinner. Greagoir hoped that she would still want to come and see him on occasion. “I… uh… have something to tell you, about me, you… um… us.”

She stopped what she was doing and fear crossed her face. 

“I had a wife once that I loved dearly. We got married and eventually we were going to have a child. I loved her so much, I still do. You look like her. Someone pointed that out the other day. I hadn’t noticed that before. Having you around made me remember her, and how happy we were.”

She stopped him, fearful that the rumors were true.

“Knight Commander, I care for you, but not like that. I think of you… like a father. As dear to me as my own Da, as favored as the Elder of the Alienage.” She rushed forward hoping that he wouldn’t be angry and was stunned as horror crossed his face.

“Sweet Andraste. I don’t think of you as a replacement for my Brigit. You…,” he stopped speaking for a moment and took a deep breath. “My wife died in childbirth, the babe, a girl, died too. I have seen you as a replacement for my daughter. Not fair to you, I know, putting that kind of pressure on you. I will understand if you wish to leave, and have dinner with the others. I think of you as… well, as a daughter, the one I was never given a chance to know.” 

Alisande slipped out of her chair and over to Greagoir. She hugged him gently around his shoulders and opened herself up to her gift. She saw the love he had for his wife, such a kind and caring man. It surprised her that the woman was a mage, something that he hadn’t mentioned. 

“I’ll call you Poppa, here, in your office. If you don’t mind that is.” Her voice was soft, needing to give the man who had protected her since she arrived at the tower a piece of herself. She could barely remember her own father, a man who had loved his wife far more than his child. 

“I would like that. Will you still come here? For dinner sometimes?” He could hardly look at her, as he tried to get control of himself.

“For dinner and other times as well, if I may, Poppa.” She tried out the word and he sighed with contentment.

“We should eat then and you can tell me about your new… friend, daughter.” Alisande smiled at Greagoir, comfortable as always in his presence. His memories buffeted her mind, but she paid no attention to them. Eventually, the memories subsided and they ate in peace before he started to tease and needle her about the boys.

She laughed as his brows slammed together when he heard who had interrupted her studies and ‘befriended’ her. If it had just been Florian, he wouldn’t have cared. No daughter of his would fall in love with a boy like that, but Lucian and Anders worried him. They tended to run through women like most men did small clothes. She brushed off his grumblings and promised Greagoir that they were merely helping her with the research. Slowly she managed to turn the conversation to the newest recruits and asked why there were no female templars in the Circle Tower.

He had no answer for that and scowled at her. She looked at his face and though knowing that it was the look he’d cowed many men with, she laughed. It took him a moment before he too chuckled along. Seeing that dinner was done, she put everything on the tray before going back over to Greagoir.

“Good night… Poppa.” She kissed his cheek at his bemused smile and picked up the tray to take it back to the kitchens.

“Good night Alisande… daughter of my heart.” The last bit was spoken as she closed the door. The whispered words still managed to tickle her ear and she smiled, finally feeling as if she had found her home. 

She paid little attention to her steps, it was a path that she took about once or twice a month and had never been molested on the stairs. 

“May I help you with the dishes?” Lucian’s voice startled her and she bobbled the tray, barely keeping everything on it.

“Lucian? What are you…?” He smiled as she stuttered and deftly took the tray out of her hands. He lifted an elbow as an offering to her. Alisande placed a hand tentatively on the proffered arm.

“I wanted to see you and I knew had come here. I figured I would wait to see if I could catch you or if I had missed you. I certainly wasn’t going to knock on the Knight Commander’s door to see if you were there.” He smiled at her as he spoke. 

“Nothing is going on between us. I told you that before.” It still stung that someone like Lucian would believe such horrible things.

“I believe you, but you have to understand, it’s odd. I’ve never heard of the Knight Commander taking any interest in the well being of a mage, and you are… well…” He cleared his throat, and wondered why it was so hard for him to speak to her.

“I’m what?” Her eyes narrowed and she contemplated leaving him behind holding the soiled dishes. Lucian put the tray down on the step behind him before turning to face her. She bit her delicate pink lip and her violet eyes were wide and wary. Lucian lifted a hand and brushed the backs of his fingers across her cheek. He wanted so much to kiss her, to see if his dreams of her came anywhere close to reality.

“You are so beautiful.” His voice was soft and the baritone made her heart beat heavily in her chest.

“Oh.” Her eyes swirled with an innocent desire and her tongue darted out to dampen her lips. He leaned in slowly, giving her an opportunity to back away and when she didn’t, he brushed his lips against hers, needing to taste but not allowing himself that pleasure yet.

“We should, um… get these dishes to the kitchen and then I’ll escort you back to your room.” He turned to pick up the tray and stopped, holding completely still, as her fingers touched his arm. He looked up at her and watched her internal war before lifting the tray and walking alongside her to the kitchen. They didn’t speak at all until after their task was done. When they left the kitchens, he chatted about his home in Kirkwall before being sent to the Ferelden Circle. His family had moved to Ferelden to be closer to him, even though they could only communicate through letters. Then he told her about his uncle, Malcolm. It was apparent that he worshiped his uncle and loved his family. It was far too short a time before they reached her dorm room. She stood outside the door for a moment and sensing that whatever they had shared on the stairs had passed, turned to go inside.

“Alisande?” She loved hearing her voice on his lips. She turned back and smiled at him. She was about to ask what he wanted when he stepped closer to her and wrapped an arm lightly around her waist. For a second time he moved slowly toward her, giving her time to stop him. When she didn’t, he pressed his lips against hers, his tongue darting out to get the briefest taste of her before he pulled away. “Sweet dreams. I’ll see you tomorrow? In the library?”

He smiled as she nodded silently. Finally able to gather her scattered wits, she opened the door and disappeared into the darkness of the room. When the door shut again, Lucian leaned against the wall and pondered his luck. Deciding not to push fate, he walked slowly to his room, not nearly as indifferent as he had tried to appear. Alisande had haunted his dreams for more than a year. He was surprised and undone by her acceptance of him as a friend or at least temporary companion. Lucian determined that he would make himself indispensable and hoped that the Maker and his bride would cooperate. 

*~*

Lucian sat at the long dinner table, fidgeting every few minutes, turning to see if she had come to the dining room.

“Lucian? She isn’t coming tonight. You know that as well as I. She’s with the Knight Commander and you… you should forget about her.” Jowan’s voice was grating, everyone knew that he would slip off to go see someone, even if no one ever figured out who he was seeing. Lucian looked at his friend, eyes narrowed.

“Leave him alone Jowan. Let him have his fantasy of the perfect unattainable woman, you know, the one that flirts with him because it is safe. Luc wouldn’t risk the Knight Commander’s wrath, playing with his pretty pet.” Anders’ spoke quietly so as not to draw attention. Lucian turned his anger toward his best friend and glared at the handsome mage. “What?” Anders seemed unimpressed, knowing that Lucian wouldn’t hurt him in the dining room and would probably forget the slight before the food was gone.

“She said it wasn’t like that. I believe her, and if you know what is healthy for you… you will too.” Lucian growled the words. He didn’t like thinking that the Knight Commander would take advantage of a pretty and innocent mage. Lucian knew that it was probably jealousy. He’d seen her one day just after class time was over. She’d almost bumped into him and then disappeared in a mob of apprentices. It had taken months to find her again, and another two weeks of hard work to memorize her schedule and her looks. She spoke rarely but even her voice enticed him. Eventually he caught one of the teachers and asked about her and gotten her name. After that, she haunted his dreams, sleeping and waking. Finally, he’d gotten up the nerve to speak with her and finds out that his sweet Alisande was a favorite of the Knight Commander.

“So, what are you going to do about it Lucian? I assume you aren’t just going to sit back and let her go, although that would be the smart thing to do.” Anders gestured at his friend with his fork, flinging a touch of gravy in his direction.

“Should he do anything more, really? Perhaps she will be entranced enough during our time doing research to make the first move.” Finn barely looked up at his friends as he ate. The other three looked incredulously at him. 

“I think I will try and meet her on the stairs as she leaves the Knight Commander’s office. Maybe I’ll get lucky and see her.” Lucian smiled at his clever plan.

“What if the templars see you, or try to stop you?” Anders raised an eyebrow at his friend. Lucian laughed.

“I’ll make up a story that I’m either going up to see Ol’ Tin Pants or coming from a lecture by him. Both are possibilities on a daily basis anyway.” Lucian finished up his meal and made to get up from the table.

“You have it bad, son. Give her some breathing room, let her pursue you.” Anders tried once more to impart the same sage advice Lucian had given him a week ago.

“Yes. I have it bad, laugh yourselves silly over it. With my luck she will prefer templars to mages and I will be out of luck regardless, but they say that fortune favors the bold.” He saluted his friends, dropped off his soiled plate and sailed out of the dining room. 

The First Enchanter watched the impetuous young mage leave, his lips lifted in a slight smile. Greagoir wanted a daughter, and with it comes the perils of her finding a beau. Irving liked Lucian, a strong mage and graced with more sense than most of the senior enchanters.

 

*~*

Lucian walked slowly to his dorm room, pleased that his plan to catch her had worked. His heart was still beating like hummingbird wings, but it was worth every second in her presence. He took a deep breath and then another, willing his heart to slow. 

A hand reached out and clamped down on his shoulder, jerking him around to face one of the many faceless templars in the tower. 

“I was just heading to my room, ser. I haven’t broken curfew yet.” Lucian kept his voice even, hoping that it was some minor infraction that the knight had stopped him for.

“The Knight Commander wants to see you. Now!” It was Ser Hadley, not Lucian’s favorite, but not the worst by far. It could have been Turian or Uther, they delighted in beating mages for fun and saying that the mage was being insolent. 

“Yes, Ser Hadley.” Lucian refrained from rolling his eyes and meekly turned back the way he came. There was a hidden stairway that the templars didn’t think the mages knew about it led both up to the top of the tower and all the way to the lowest basements, and for a patient mage… the way out.

The deserted passageways were eerie to Lucian, hearing the templars footsteps ringing just out of step with his own, set his teeth on edge.

“What is it the Knight Commander wants?” Lucian asked.

“I do not question the Knight Commander, nor his requests. He asked me to fetch you and I have. Now… keep walking.” Hadley punctuated the last sentence with a light shove to get Lucian walking and not talking. Eventually they made it to Greagoir’s office; a light beneath showed that against Lucian’s hopes, the Knight Commander was waiting. Hadley knocked twice on the door in quick succession.

“Enter.” Hadley pushed the door open and then shoved Lucian inside. Greagoir was sitting behind his desk, his fingers steepled, hiding much of his expression. “Thank you, Hadley. Wait outside until we are done.”

“Yes Ser!” Hadley saluted and then shut the door. Lucian stood facing the most feared man in the entire tower and attempted not to fidget. 

“It has come to my attention,” intoned Greagoir, “that you have decided to pursue one of the female apprentices. Normally I wouldn’t care but the apprentice in question is family. She has accepted me as her guardian and so, now, you will have to deal with me. I don’t particularly like you, nor your reputation, but someone I trust has told me to bide my time and let nature take its course. However, if you cause her even an ounce of distress you will wish that you had been made tranquil years before your mother birthed you. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

“She is… your family?” Lucian was embarrassed to note that his voice cracked a bit on the question. He should have seen it, even if they didn’t look alike, it was possible that servants from Greagoir’s home would be considered part of the family, at least in his mind; or perhaps she was a niece once removed or something along those lines. His mind had wandered from Greagoir and onto the multiple permutations of how Alisande could be related to Greagoir. The Knight Commander cleared his throat and brought Lucian back to his predicament.

“She is my family and that’s all you need to know. Please do not spread it around without her knowledge. Alisande did not want special privileges and so she has not spoken of it. I know that you understand my meaning. I suggest you tread carefully, we will be watching you.” Greagoir glared at the young man and waited until he nodded. “Then you may leave. Ser Hadley will walk you back as it is now past curfew, and I would… hate to have something happen to you.”

“Good evening, Knight Commander.” Lucian inclined his head and backed up until he hit the door. His hand slipped behind him and he opened the door without turning around. In the back of his mind, the one piece that had kept him alive this long warned him that the Knight Commander was still considering ordering his death, just to rid himself of an irritating mage and that prolonged eye contact was the only thing keeping him alive. As soon as he could, Lucian made his escape and Ser Hadley followed along at a more leisurely pace. 

Like a good templar, he listened at the door and heard the Commander admit to being related to the elven mage; unusual but not unheard of. Hadley swore that he would tell the others and it would circulate through the ranks. They would keep a special eye out for the family of the Knight Commander, and anyone that displeased her or Greagoir would be brought to task quickly. Hadley grinned wickedly behind his helm. There were a few templars that found Alisande easy on the eyes and if she could be persuaded to take a fancy to one of them, then perhaps the Knight Commander would be more pleased. 

Lucian’s mind was whirling with the news. He had to tell the others, mostly so that they could run interference if needed between him and the templars. Finn would balk a bit, but could be talked into it. Anders was always up for pulling one over on the tin heads and Jowan… well Jowan would do what was best for the group, at least for now. Something was going on with Jowan, but Lucian was too wrapped up in plans for the courting of Alisande to care much one way or the other.


	6. Kisses and Courtship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An undeniably fluffy chapter, but she deserves it.

“Anders, I need some flowers.” Lucian whispered harshly to his friend. It had been months since he had started to attempt his courtship. Since then, she had been pursued by almost every templar and a number of mages. He’d had to fight his way to her side, once, in the library, and when he’d finally made it to the seat she had smiled shakily at him; quietly asking if he could get rid of the crowd as they were making it difficult to do her work. It had taken all four of them to get everyone to back away. She had shyly kissed his cheek and murmured her thanks. When had looked up, he saw Knight Commander Greagoir glaring at him. This brought him to his current dilemma.

“Anders!” he hissed.

“Let me just pull some out of my arse.” Anders glared at his friend. Alisande had affected all of them, Anders most of all. He had helped her escape from a small mob of admirers and she had kissed his cheek, making Anders’ heart beat a little bit faster. If it hadn’t been Lucian, he would have pursued the girl himself.

“You always have something. It’s your fault we can’t go outside anymore,” Lucian groused. Anders watched as Lucian smoothed his hair down and checked his apprentice robes for stains.

“She likes you best. Can’t you just take that as a win?” Anders’ sat down on Lucian’s bed and watched his friend with a small smile. 

“You don’t get it. I… we… uh…” Lucian looked at Anders in the mirror and sighed. 

“You love her, don’t you? How does she feel about you?” Anders’ questions made Lucian uncomfortable. Their eyes locked in the glass and Lucian looked away. “You don’t know, do you? You have never asked her how she feels because you are afraid that she will ask you how you feel. If she were to be sent from the Tower tomorrow, what would you do?”

“I’d go after her. I’d petition, plead, beg or coerce my way into whatever circle that she was going to go to. Barring that, I’d escape and go over land to find her.” Lucian’s brows slammed together as Anders merely grinned at him.

“Then just go to the library before she finishes up her research for the day. Offer to escort her to her room, but take the ‘shortcut’ through the stacks. When you have her in the passageway, kiss her and let her decide.” Anders nodded as if it were all decided, then he got up, brushed his robes smooth and started out the door. “If you don’t do something tonight, I’m moving in on her.”

“Bastard.” Lucian smiled as his friend left the bedroom and the words lacked heat. He checked his hair, teeth, and clothes one more time before heading out the door. He smiled as he got an idea and ran to the kitchens before heading out to meet Alisande. She was looking for him over the heads of everyone. Jowan and Finn had taken up positions on either side of her, to prevent someone outside of the group from sitting next to her. Finn barely smiled at him as Lucian approached and Jowan merely pushed himself to the side, making room for Lucian to sit.

“I’m glad you are here, Lucian.” She whispered the words at him; her space was ridiculously small compared to just a few months before. “I was afraid I would be forced to leave with all these people around. I can hardly think.”

“May I kiss you? Here? Now? Maybe then they will leave you alone, if they think that you favor me.” Lucian said it jokingly, so that he could brush it off if she said no. He was surprised when she turned toward him, her eyes shining, and she kissed him shyly. Lucian’s hand moved up to cup her cheek and fought not to moan with pleasure. Alisande’s hand moved very slowly up to his shoulder and then neck; her fingers teasing his short hair. He pulled back, breaking the kiss. Her eyes were closed for just a second longer and when she opened them, they were clouded with confusion. 

“What? Is… is something wrong?” She bit her lip as she asked the question and it looked as if she were going to bolt immediately.

“No, sweet. I just don’t want anyone to get so jealous that a riot starts. Will you… will you take a walk with me?” Lucian had leaned in to speak but it was apparent by Finn’s smile that his friend had heard.

“All right.” He wanted to kiss her again, feel her fingers playing with his hair. He wanted to know how she felt beneath him, but knew he couldn’t push her. She smiled slightly as he stood and held out his hand. His fingers curled over hers as he helped her stand, steadying her as she wobbled slightly.

“We’ll just stay here and keep doing her research for her then.” Finn rolled his eyes as he spoke but was grinning when Lucian looked at him.

“Do you mind, Finn? I will owe you one.” Alisande’s words tickled his ear as she leaned down to speak with Finn, her hand firmly in Lucian’s. Finn turned and saw how close she was. Taking a chance that Lucian would punch him hard later, he leaned in and placed a quick friendly peck against the corner of her mouth, then blushed hotly. Lucian tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and led her out of the library, heading toward the stairs as if they were going up to meet with the First Enchanter. When they had lost the potential suitors tailing them, he ducked into an alcove and opened a hidden door. With a slight tug, he pulled her into the darkness and wrapped her securely in his arms.

*~*

She panicked for a moment in the darkness, but she kept telling herself that it was Lucian, the man she adored. Alisande felt his hands slide across the soft silk of the apprentice robe up her side, brushing against her suddenly sensitive breasts, and then his warm hands cupped her face gently and his lips met hers. 

“I have wanted to spend time alone with you since I first met you.” Lucian’s words were hushed and she could feel his breath on her lips. She smiled at him in the darkness, resisting the urge to create a ball of magelight so that she could see his face.

“You wanted to spend time alone with me when I was eleven?” In the darkness he felt the impish grin but didn’t respond immediately. He didn’t remember meeting her when he was twelve. It would have been his first year in the tower, and he could have sworn he remembered everyone.

Two little boys were sitting on a bed, tears streaming down their faces. One, tow-headed with caramel eyes was clutching a delicately embroidered pillow, the other, hair black as a raven’s wing, was spinning a ring too big for his finger around on his palm as if trying to make a magic trick happen. A little girl with sunset hair and violet eyes walked in and smiled at the boys. The one with the pillow nodded back but didn’t look up. The girl set her face in determined lines and gingerly touched the boy’s tousled blond hair, soothing away his sorrow. With a movement and tenderness beyond her years, she kissed the top of the boy’s head and spoke in a woman’s voice. The dark haired boy just watched as the terrified lines in the other boy’s body melted away. The little girl then turned to the dark haired boy and held out her hand. 

“I am Ali. You’re new.” The high childish voice was back and the dark haired boy was curious.

“I’m Luke… Lucian… Amell. Nice to meet you.” The little boy took her hand in his and could hear his mother telling him how much she loved him.

“I should go.” The little girl’s eyes were troubled and she looked behind her and started to back up.

“What’s wrong?” Lucian reached for the girl but she was just beyond his grasp. An older mage with dark blond hair walked into the room scowling slightly. 

“Alisande you know that you aren’t supposed to be wandering around. The First Enchanter has been looking for you.” The older mage’s voice showed exasperation and frustration more than actual anger.

“Yes, Wynne. I’m sorry.” Little Ali turned away from the boys and allowed Wynne to usher her out. She looked back once at the boys before disappearing beyond the door.

“What was that? Alisande? Did you…?” Lucian was almost beyond words. He’d forgotten that incident, well part of it. Shortly after Alisande had left, he and Anders had become best friends that day.

“It was your memory, my gift I suppose. It is why I will never leave the tower.” He could almost make out the sorrow on her face. He wanted to smooth away the worried lines marring her beauty.

“That is a wonderful gift, sweet. It will be even better to remember every moment I have with you, because you can show me.” His fingertips stroked her cheeks and he was surprised to feel tears against his skin. “Don’t cry sweetheart. I think it is a wonderful gift and I would be jealous, but if you are feeling generous you can obviously share it with me. You probably know some juicy tidbits too.” He tried to joke but she pulled away slightly.

“I should go. You don’t need…” Her voice was soft and small, expecting pain. Lucian gritted his teeth and wanted to hit every person who had ever made her doubt how wonderful her gift was. He reached forward, getting a hold of her arm and was pummeled with images; a man holding down a child to take her innocence, a templar kicking a mage child just because she lost control, a mage striking Ali across her mouth because she asked a question about something she shouldn’t know. The memories and nightmares lashed out at him, but Lucian wouldn’t let go of her. Instead, he pulled her more tightly to him, kissing her temple and making soothing noises as her body shuddered with fear.

“I do need, love. I need you, I have always needed… just you.” He held her tightly until the images faded the last burned on his inner eye, a massive tree in the center of a city promising hope for a better future.

“What did you say Lucian?” She wanted to believe that she could be loved like any other woman but didn’t believe that it was possible.

“I said I need you. I love you, you should know that too. Although, I doubt the Knight Commander will be happy to know of my single minded pursuit of you.” Lucian spoke quietly against her temple, his heart racing as he told her of his feelings without waiting for her to speak them first. Now he found himself not wanting her to say anything, not repeating the sentiment, not yet. He felt her tremble lightly and he lifted her head slightly so that he could claim her mouth for his own. His lips brushed feather-light over hers at first and then added more and more pressure until they were almost fused together. Her mouth opened to his gentle but insistent requests and his tongue glided against hers.

She moaned slightly and trembled in his grasp. She had expected him to run from her, as any number of the other mages had done time and again when they wondered why she was so reticent around them. Not Lucian, though, he consistently surprised her, pursuing her relentlessly and then not running when presented with the impossible. She almost melted into him and he delighted in pulling her in closer, molding her body to his. They stood like that for minutes before her hand slid down his chest and started to fumble with his robes. He chuckled and captured her hand.

“Not yet sweetheart. When we finally make love, I want it to be in a bed, where I can hold as well as see you. I don’t want to fumble in the dark as if we were doing something unsavory. Being together should be an amazing experience for both of us. That isn’t to say that I am willing to wait overlong, but let me make it perfect.” Lucian promised himself that he would approach the First Enchanter and then the Knight Commander. There were many ways to get permission to be with another mage, but he wanted what his parents had, he wanted to be joined in the eyes of the Chantry. His uncle said that even mages could marry but it took special permission. He didn’t care that they were young, she was more special than any woman he’d ever met.

“What are you thinking Lucian?” Her words were quiet, muffled slightly as she leaned into his chest.

“Hmmm. Nothing you should worry about love.” He kissed the top of her head and then pulled back. “Come with me, I want to show you something.”

Lucian took Alisande’s hand in his and led her down the short stairs and over to a small grate. They could feel a gentle breeze and a saw a pool of cool light.

“What is this place? Why doesn’t anyone know about this place?” Her words were reverently whispered. He laughed and the sound echoed around the walls.

“Well, the boys all know about this place and I’m pretty sure that the First Enchanter and at least the Knight Commander as well as all the templars know about it. It’s not so much a secret as it is discouraged. This basement leads out, eventually, if you have a map. It’s probably how you were brought in to the tower.” He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and luxuriated in her scent.

“So, you want me to lead you out then.” Her voice was flat.

“No. Not unless you also have our phylacteries and are willing to come with me. I’m not going anywhere without you.” He bent down and kissed her neck. “I just wanted you to feel the air outside and see the moonlight. I wanted to share it with you, love.”

He had to keep saying the words, reassuring her and and himself. The last people he had loved had been taken away from him, and he was determined not to let her go like they had been. She turned in his arms, and touched his face with his fingers. 

“You are so handsome and sweet. Thank you for bringing me here.” She tilted her face up slightly and caught his lips with hers. He moaned into her mouth and she felt warm with the power she held. “I love you too Lucian.”

He swept her up in his arms and spun her around, almost slipping on damp stones. The both laughed and she held on to him a little harder.

“We should get back upstairs, but I have a picnic repast prepared in the kitchen, and the First Enchanter has graciously allowed us the use of the library during the dinner hour. Shall we?” He had set her down and offered his arm. Instead of immediately taking hold, she reached up one more time and pressed her lips to his, nibbling gently at his mouth. His hand moved to the back of her head and curled his fingers into her hair. He fought the need that was building within him again. Her mouth beckoned and he followed her lead. Her hand stroked down his chest, leaving behind trails of heat.

“Make the plans for us, soon. I’ve never felt like this about anyone.” She panted as she backed away from the hot kiss.

“That makes two of us. Let’s go eat and plan and then do some research so that you can make your case to the First Enchanter.” He plundered her mouth once more before tucking her hand against his arm and then led her up out of the darkness.


	7. Delays

“What do you mean that we cannot see each other for two months? We see each other every day; I’m helping her with her research.” Lucian snarled at the combined might of Greagoir and Irving. Irving was seated behind his desk, his hands clasped and fingers steepled, hiding the slight smile. Greagoir had been convinced that Lucian’s attentions were fleeting, but the mage hadn’t done more than kiss the girl a few times, and while it was known by a few that he was entertaining more, the boy had a sentimental and romantic streak a mile wide. Greagoir still wasn’t convinced and had wanted to put Lucian aside, by introducing Alisande to a few of the younger templars as companions or even some of the steadier older mages. Greagoir outwardly discouraged unions between templars and mages, but he knew that it happened. He often turned a blind eye as long as both parties were discreet.

“Lucian, she needs to finish her research, and soon,” said Irving. “Before her nameday in fact. In addition, you also have your own research to take care of, which will need to be presented to me before your nameday in six months. I am only asking that you and she devote your time and energy to these projects.” Irving shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with Greagoir’s displeasure. Lucian’s glare didn’t bother him at all but he and Greagoir had been friends for years, and he knew that the templar thought that he was just encouraging Lucian to take riskier measures.

“What research? My mentor hasn’t assigned me any research.” Lucian glared at Irving, certain that it was some ploy by Greagoir to keep him away from Alisande.

“You are now one of my students and I have research that I wish you to complete.” Irving raised his eyebrow and watched as the apprentice lowered his head defeated for the moment. 

“I merely came here to ask for your permission to speak with the Revered Mother. I know that she needs your approval as well as the Knight Commander’s in order to ask the Chantry to allow Alisande and I to marry. She… she’s of age, as am I. I do not wish to compromise her, but I do seek the companionship and bond that my parents had, sers.” Lucian was playing the role of penitent and all of them knew it. He’d done his research though and he was correct, in order to marry another mage, he would need the permission of the Revered Mother, Knight Commander and First Enchanter. Most mages chose not to bother with the formalities, but Lucian had learned that marriage also meant that neither mage could be sent from one tower to another without his or her spouse; Lucian wanted that with Alisande. 

“No.” The Knight Commander’s single word cut through him and Lucian swore that he would have Alisande convince him if he could not.

“Why not?” Lucian asked the question quietly and with a healthy dose of respectful curiosity to color his tone.

“We cannot allow either of you to marry as of yet, Lucian. Neither of you have gone through the Harrowing. Your apparent and ardent affection for each other is yet another reason why we have deemed it necessary to separate you two. It is common knowledge that a woman’s first lover and first intimate experience is a highly emotional one. Alisande, her past aside, has never known a lover’s touch. We have been very careful to make certain of that. She is a powerful mage and such strong emotion might call a demon to her. She has to go through the Harrowing first and I am not sure that she will be able to resist your charms when you cannot wait and we need you to wait. Give yourself the time as well. You should think deeply about what it means to be bound to a woman as strong as she is.” Irving tried to be rational and knew that it would be hard for all of them. 

“Fine. Two months… no more.” Lucian spoke grudgingly, trying to figure out a way around it.

“She won’t forget you in two months’ time, Lucian. Now… choose one of your companions to continue to help her with her research. I would suggest Florian, because he has the best work ethic, but Anders has his positive side as well.” Irving mused as he shuffled through his papers.

“Why not Jowan?” Lucian was surprised at the obvious omission. Irving and Greagoir looked at each other before the Knight Commander nodded.

“He isn’t the best candidate as he is under observation for other reasons and it might be distracting to her. We want her to finish the work with all haste.” Irving and Greagoir were hiding something and Lucian knew he would have to ferret it out of Jowan if no one else. 

“Fine. Anders should be the one to help her. What is my new assignment then?” Lucian decided that he wouldn’t push… yet.

“I want you to research the history of Blights and what if any effect magic has had on its outcome. There have been rumor of concentrated darkspawn attacks, enough to get the King worried. He has asked us to do what we can to find out if there is any reason to expect a Blight during his reign and hasn’t given us much time to find the answer. I am handing it to you, as well as a few of the more senior enchanters. I expect that you will ferret out information that the older mages will miss. Furthermore, you cannot include any of your fellows in this; it is a project that must be kept quiet. Your discretion will go a long way with the circle.” Irving emphasized the last, letting Lucian know that his silence would be the deciding factor of his request.

“Yes ser. May I at least say goodbye to Alisande, so that she doesn’t think that I have abandoned her after my protestations of feeling?” Lucian felt nothing but dread as he looked up at the two men.

“Of course. Just… try to think of it all this way… if she were to be with child, the Harrowing might destroy it and if, on the off chance, you didn’t survive the Harrowing, then it might destroy her. Hold off until you have both passed through the test and then revisit your request.” Greagoir spoke quietly and laid a hand on Lucian’s shoulder. Lucian finally looked up his stormy gray meeting the warm brown of the Knight Commander’s. Deep within, he knew that the Harrowing and all of its dire prospects were weighing heavily on the man. His family was soon to face the test with no certain outcome. Lucian nodded his understanding.

“Then I will let her know that it is a temporary request and that I will see her after her work is done?” Lucian hoped they wouldn’t deny him her presence when she had passed her Harrowing.

“Certainly. You have the afternoon free, but please… be… discreet.” Irving’s tone had the implied threat that if he attempted to compromise Alisande to get his way, the consequences would be painful. Lucian nodded and backed out of the room. Greagoir waited a few minutes, to be sure that he was gone.

“Why would you promise him such a thing? You know that he is a prime candidate to go to the war. The King wants men like him; all he has to do is pass his Harrowing. I don’t see why any of our mages need to go. I don’t like the idea at all. Do you really believe that any of the mages here are necessary to this effort.” Greagoir snarled at the door, not really wanting to voice his worry to his friend.

“They would want Alisande as well,” said Irving knowing what was at the core of Greagoir’s distress. “Why should we not encourage the two of them? Perhaps, if they are joined as Lucian wishes, then both might stay in the Tower. Perhaps, he will find information to support your theory that we aren’t really needed, although I believe that many mages would want to go and aid the King simply to show their pride for their homeland and their willingness to protect it. Not all mages want to go out, willy-nilly, and blast the common folk with fireballs and lightning from their arses. Enough do, though, that make it dangerous in choosing who to send.” Irving looked at the royal summons as he spoke. He was expected to visit the King in Denerim for a council of war, as was Greagoir. Both had managed to put him off until after Alisande’s nameday, insisting on seeing her through the Harrowing first. Greagoir had even considered taking her with them, so that she could visit the Alienage and see her family once more, with supervision of course. Irving had spoken against it, instead, suggesting that her family or the Elder come to the tower to see her after the Harrowing or to collect her things if the worst happened.

*~*

He found her sitting at what he had come to think of as her table in the library. Books as well as the boys surrounded her. The crowd was visibly less now though and he didn’t need to shove people out of the way to sit next to her.

“Irving gave you the day off from your studies to spend time with me.” Lucian whispered in her ear, making her blush but then turn to him with a questioning look.

“Why? He told me today that I had only two months to finish it.” Alisande looked into Lucian’s eyes and saw sorrow. “What’s wrong love?” Her hand stroked the side of his cheek as she spoke. 

“Take a walk with me, and I’ll tell you. Then I’ll tell the others, all right?” He spoke softly, not trusting his voice to give way to his disappointment or frustration; she deserved to be the brunt of neither. She nodded and then let him help her rise. He tucked her hand in his elbow and pulled her close to him, trying to capture her scent in his memory. Two months was going to be forever. They didn’t make it far before Alisande stopped walking and forced him to turn toward her. He’d forgotten her talent, he realized, as tears shimmered in her eyes.

“It’s only two month though, my love, and then I’ll help you with your research. We’ll both get through it fine. I promise,” she said. Her mouth was quirked up in a half-smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. He nodded solemnly not wanting to speak. Knowing his heart, she reached up and tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling him down toward her gently until she could capture his lips with hers. They stood in a half embrace for a moment, and then with a soft moan, he released her one arm so that he could hold her against him, uncaring of their audience. He let her see every moment that he thought of her, with a few exceptions, and showed her how two months, although agony, would not keep him from loving her. “I love you too, Lucian. I always will.”

He pulled back and looked at her face. She was so open and lovely he could hardly wait for the months to go by. 

“So, may I still pull you away from a day of research? Or at least banish your other assistants so that I can have you to myself?” Lucian tried to put a silly wheedling tone into his voice to cover his worry for her.

“No. We will all take the day off. You and I will go to the solarium, since someone made it so we can’t really go outside.” She flashed a look of fake annoyance at Anders who whistled and looked up at the ceiling. Lucian nodded, knowing that the solarium doubled as a greenhouse for the herbs necessary for healing potions and other remedies. It would be a quiet place in which to spend his last day with her. She kissed his cheek.

“Lucian, it won’t be our last day together, trust me. It’ll just feel like it for a while. We’ll pass notes through Anders, or Finn… or Jowan. Although, I have to talk to you about Jowan. There is something you need to know.” Her voice was low and mildly flirtatious, just enough for the men straining to hear the words to dismiss the conversation as being between lovers. Grinning at their new found freedom, all three raced out of the library to find some mischief, their laughter a bittersweet counterpoint to Lucian’s own feelings.


End file.
